


We're Having a Baby, My Baby and Me

by xgoingdownx



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 09:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17465102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xgoingdownx/pseuds/xgoingdownx
Summary: You get pregnant just before Roger leaves for tour





	We're Having a Baby, My Baby and Me

Roger had left for touring America roughly three months ago. He was due back within the week, which you were thankful for, seeing as how you had recently found out you were pregnant. You hadn’t wanted to tell him over the phone knowing he would be home so soon. You had barely begun to show, just a tiny protrusion that wasn’t noticeable unless you were wearing something skin tight. 

As soon as you found out you started knitting a pair of baby booties and a hat and were now starting on a blanket. You decided to keep things neutral, what with not being able to know the sex of the baby until it was born, so the set was done in a soft white color. You hadn’t started thinking of much else, the knitting was just keeping your nerves at bay while Roger was gone. If you weren’t knitting, you were cleaning. The house felt enormous with only you there, and even though you didn’t make much mess, you were convinced it needed to be cleaned daily.

You were sitting in the living room working on the baby blanket again, listening to the radio and waiting for Roger to come home. He had called you from the airport to say he was on his way so you made sure to be ready for him. It was nearly eight in the evening when you heard the lock click and the front door open. Bags hit the floor as the door shut again, a loud groan coming from the foyer. You got up from your spot on the couch, involuntarily putting a hand over your stomach as you walked towards him. 

“Welcome home, babe,” you smiled, drawing Roger into a tender kiss. His hands grasped your thighs and pulled you up into his arms. 

“Missed you so damn much,” he murmured against your skin. 

He twirled you around for a moment, which made you giggle at first, but that quickly changed to nausea. Your hand flew to your mouth and you scrambled out of his arms so you could stand on your own feet again. 

“You okay? That doesn’t usually bother you,” he placed his hands on your waist and rubbed your sides soothingly. You nodded, swallowing the urge to vomit and holding your stomach again

“Sorry, I’m still getting used to having such a sensitive stomach.”

Roger cocked an eyebrow at you, making you realize what you just said.

“Ah, I wasn’t planning on telling you like this,” you laughed nervously. “But, I suppose now I have to; Roger, I’m pregnant.”

He beamed at you as he picked you up again, fighting the urge to spin you around this time. He littered your face with kisses before finally asking, “When did you find out?” 

“Uhm, well, about two weeks ago…” you replied quietly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when we talked on the phone?” 

“I wanted to surprise you when you got home,” you paused. “And because I didn’t want to risk you canceling tour dates just because of me.” 

“Well have you told anyone else?” he questioned, sounding hopeful that you hadn’t.

“I told my parents and one of my friends. I kind of wanted someone to go with me to the doctor at least,” you shrugged. 

“At least I wasn’t the last to know,” he chuckled. “How far are you?” 

“Well, it’s been about three months since you left- you tell me. But to be exact, I’m fourteen weeks.” 

He counted off in his head, a look of frustration washing over him. “We might be gone again when the baby comes,” he sighed. 

He wasn’t wrong, the tour was split up into different countries across many months, and for now, they were on a few months break. They’d go back on the road in November, come home again in December, and leave once more in February to be gone through part of March. You’d be forty weeks by the end of March, but if the baby decided to come early he may not be home.

“There’s not much to be done about that, Rog,” you reply, rubbing his arm reassuringly. “It’ll be alright.”

Over the course of the next few months, you eventually told everyone about the baby and began getting things ready. A barely used guest room became the baby’s room, one with lots of sunlight and painted a soft yellow color, it felt perfect. You finally finished the blanket you were knitting and the set was put aside in the room along with other odds and ends people started giving you.

By the end of November, you were twenty-one weeks pregnant and Roger had a hard time keeping his hands off of you. Your stomach had grown considerably since he had come home and for some reason, it drove him crazy. He hated that he had to leave you again, feeling like he would miss out on something important. You had to reassure him that nothing would be that different by the time he got back, you might be a little bigger, but it wasn’t as if he was missing anything there. 

“Don’t have the baby without me,” he joked before leaving for another leg of the tour. 

“Promise, I won’t,” you laughed, kissing him goodbye. 

He called every night, even if he only had a few moments, just to check in on you. Everything was going smoothly at home and your parents and friends were coming around more often to make sure you were okay. You had begun to feel little movements and kicks just before Roger left, but they weren’t strong enough for him to ever feel. With it now being the middle of December, you were twenty-five weeks pregnant, and those little kicks were definitely becoming stronger. Sometimes if you were still enough you could see your stomach move just barely, or rather the child inside you moving. 

Yet again you sat waiting for Roger to come through the door, though this time it was early in the morning. They had caught an overnight flight back home since everyone was ready to be back for the holidays. You had already decorated the house as much as you could, getting some help from your friends to put up the tree, opting for artificial so there would be less mess for you to clean up later. The lights from the tree were the only glow in the room, and the sun had barely risen at when you heard the door open. You pushed yourself off the soft cushions, walking gingerly over to the foyer, repeating the process of greeting Roger as you did a few months ago.

After settling in the two of you sat on the couch, each having a cup of coffee. The caffeine tended to make the baby a little more active and you prompted Roger to keep a hand on your stomach in case there were any movements. Sure enough, after a little while, you felt a few tiny kicks. 

“That’s amazing. My little drummer,” Roger cooed, and the baby kicked in response. You laughed as he kissed your abdomen, smiling up at you.

“Looks like I’m in trouble. One drummer is bad enough,” you raised your eyebrows at him. 

Christmas went well, the baby was already being spoiled with toys, including a small drum Roger had brought back from tour. As much as you hated the thought of all the noise, he was too excited for you to say anything. You supposed a toy was better than having him bang on your pots and pans, making a mess of your kitchen. Furniture had been added to the baby’s room; a crib, dresser, changing table, and rocking chair filled the space nicely. Some nights you’d sit in the rocking chair, taking in the quiet while thinking about what was ahead of you.

February came much too soon, and you were starting to worry about how you’d get along without Roger there at the end of your third trimester. You were having more trouble getting around, and especially bending over for things, so you decided to stay with your parents for the time being. Life was a little easier having some help and company around, but you still wished Roger could be there with you to ease your worried thoughts. As excited as you were, the thought of everything to come was making you anxious. 

You reached full term when he came home for the last time. You were thankful he was at least home before the baby decided to make its appearance. The last week before you were due was spent mostly in bed, him fussing over you, singing to your stomach, and just genuinely enjoying the last moments of it being only the two of you. The day finally came when you started having contractions, and you rushed to the hospital, even though you were a little too early to be there. Labor was long, tiring, and if you were honest, the most painful thing you’d ever experienced, but Roger was there the whole time, holding your hand periodically. 

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” the midwife declared before cleaning up your newborn. 

You gave him a tired smile, “Sounds like you’re the one in trouble now, Mr. Taylor.” 

The nurse handed the newborn over to Roger first, as you were too exhausted. He was enamored immediately, barely moving, as if he was afraid he would break her. 

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Just like her mother.” 

You scoffed, “Not right now.” You felt disgusting, sweating and tired, you knew you looked a mess. 

“You’re always beautiful, darling,” he replied, kissing your forehead. 

He carefully handed your daughter to you, watching as a nurse instructed you on how to breastfeed her. Motherhood suited you, he thought, even if it had only been less than a few hours. You looked like a natural beauty, no makeup and dressed in only a hospital gown, he felt like he couldn’t love you more than he did at that moment while he watched you. You glanced over at him and smiled, knowing that for all your worrying everything would turn out okay.


End file.
